Crossed My Heart
by Black-fire Phoenix Wings
Summary: A Romeo and Juliet kind of story with a certain Slytherin Prince and a new character. Follow them through their journey of friendship, promises, resentment, and, maybe even, some romantic sparks. Draco/OC. Remus has a daughter! No Tonks. ABANDONED!
1. Chapter 1

Hi, new story.

By the way, Tonks has absolutely nothing to do with this. I didn't really like the Tonks/Remus pairing, so he's with someone a bit more his age. Still, I wanted some element to tie in with canon, so I made his daughter a metamorphagus.

No Mary-Sues, don't worry.

Also, the grammar errors are on purpose. I'm trying to make their dialogue sound the way children would actually speak.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter or the quotes seen here. This is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

"Friendship is precious, not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life." -Thomas Jefferson

Crossed My Heart

The air was alive with spring. The last of winter had died and nature was rejoicing at its triumph. Colorful, delicate flowers were fighting their way up and opening their faces, welcoming the warm, brilliant sun. Trees were gaining back their jade-colored leaves. Some were even sprouting blossoms.

Streams were flowing fast and rapid, having to accommodate the melted snow and ice, and wash it away to make room for spring's new. Rain clouds drifted in and out occasionally, just to expel the last of their water.

The air was filled with the sounds of animals coming alive again. The birds sang their sweet songs of welcome to the end of a long, dark winter. Small animals were racing out to collect new food after having depleted their original stash.

Children began to joyfully play outside, a few at a time.

At East Willow Park, a single young girl was happily playing by herself.

She was a very young girl, no more than four or five years of age. Even for her innocent, young age, she had a small frame, not that she ever let that get in the way. She had large honey-brown eyes that were always on the alert, looking for the next adventure. Her short hair was an odd shade of jade green, pulled into two short ponytails.

She was the only child at the park that day, something she tried to enjoy. She played on the jungle gym.

Her parents watched her from the park bench on the other side of the sand pit. When she knew that they were looking, she would merely climb and simply hang around like a good little girl. It was only out of her parents' watchful eyes that she actually had some fun.

She would do the daring stuff that she loved. She would jump from one side of the gym to the other, vault over a bar and land on the next, do a loop like an acrobatic, that sort of thing.

She didn't worry about falling or getting hurt- that sort of risk was what made it fun.

It was at some point when she was hanging upside-down that she saw another child. Even upside-down, she could see that he was about her age. He walked completely alone, his hands in his pockets, his little coat wrapped tightly around his small body. Anyone would say that he was lost. He looked lonely, at least.

A cold, sharp breeze raced through the park. The little boy pulled his coat tighter around him and sat down against one of the trees.

The little girl flipped right side-up and glanced at her parents. They didn't appear to have seen the boy. They both caught her eye, smiled and waved simultaneously to their little girl.

She just returned it with a quick wave before hopping off of the metal bars. Being young, she figured that the boy might readily want to play with her- maybe a game of tag.

She skipped over to the tree that he sat under, looking almost unsure of himself.

"Hi!" she greeted excitedly.

He jumped at turned to look at her. He was about her age. His skin was pale, as though he didn't see much sun. He had neat, white-blond hair and sharp gray eyes. He wore an expensive-looking heavy black coat with silver fastenings- his emerald scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.

He didn't say anything, he just looked at her, as though trying to figure out what to do.

"My mummy an daddy are over there," she eagerly pointed to the couple sitting on the wooden bench, talking to each other. The man had sandy-colored hair and various scars all over him. The woman was gentle and fair-looking, her golden hair pulled into a long braid running down her back. "But where are your mummy and daddy?" she asked him in a high-pitched voice.

The boy continued to looked uncomfortable as though he shouldn't even be talking to her. But he still answered, "They left the house because of work for something."

"You are here all by yourself?" the girl sat down under the tree with him.

He scooted away from her slightly, but he nodded, "They weren't around and I wanted to go to a park to see what a park was like."

"You are all alone? Wow, you're brave! Aren't you scared?" The little girl asked in childish amazement.

The little boy smiled a small half-smile. He liked being called brave. "My father and mother wouldn't ever let me come to a park," he explained.

The girl looked confused, "Why won't they not let you go to a park? It's fun!"

He shrugged his small shoulders, "They don't want me to be around _other people_" he whispered like it was a secret. he suddenly remembered something and then scooted away from the girl even more. He glanced at her green hair, like he noticed it for the first time, "Why is your hair green like that?"

The little girl's face brightened for some reason, "I can make it pink too! Daddy says I'm a meta- meta- metamorphagus," she stumbled, having trouble pronouncing such a big word.

For some reason, the boy relaxed slightly. The little girl noticed.

"Do you want to play?" she asked hopefully.

The little boy still looked hesitant, "Father said I shouldn't be playing."

The girl was puzzled again, "But playing is lots of fun!"

"Father doesn't want me to be playing," the young boy repeated.

The girl's face fell even more, "You don't like me," she reasoned sadly.

The little boy looked surprise. He shook his head quickly, "No, no, no! I like you but you probably don't like me because nobody likes me! Everybody _hates _me!"

The little green-haired girl looked straight at him, "_I _don't hate you."

The blond-haired boy stared at her.

She stood up and said, "Let's play tag!"

He still looked hesitant, "I don't know if I should."

She put on her 'please' face, "_Please,_ it'll be fun! And your mummy and daddy sound _mean_!"

The boy slowly stood up, but he didn't go anywhere.

The little girl tried again, "It'll be lots of fun!" she repeated, "_Promise!_ Look," she made an invisible X over her chest with her index finger, "Cross my heart, okay?"

It took a little while, but finally he asked her, "How do you play tag?"

She smiled excitedly, "If you're 'it' you just chase after me to tag me and make me 'it.'"

She tagged him on the shoulder, "Tag! You're it!" she squealed and she went running off.

The boy started to chase after her. They ran all over. The boy seemed slightly awkward at first, but, eventually, he warmed up to the idea having a playmate. He even started smiling and laughing like a kid should.

Their game of tag soon turned into a game of hide-and-seek.

After the girl gave him a quick tutorial, he ran over to one of the trees and covered his eyes with his little hands and counted, "One, two, three..."

The energetic little girl looked around for a good hiding place. She didn't want to hide in one of the bushes, it would be too obvious. She glanced at one of the trees, it looked like a good climbing tree.

She ran over to it and hoisted herself onto the lowest branch.

"eleven, twelve..."

She worked her away into the more branch-crowded section of the tree, sat herself down on a sturdy looking one, and waited.

"eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Ready or not, here I come!" the boy shouted.

He looked in the bushes, around some of the trees, and even in a flower patch, but he couldn't find the girl.

All the while, she sat from the tree, dangling her feet, still waiting for her playmate to find her.

He got farther and farther away from the tree she was in. She climbed higher to be able to see him better. The branches became thinner and more brittle, but she didn't notice. The boy looked in another bush, and the girl kept climbing.

She put her foot on a particularly flimsy branch and-

SNAP!

There weren't any sturdy branches below her to break her fall, just grass. She was too surprised to be able to scream or shout. She felt the wind rush past her.

The little boy heard the branch snap and he whipped towards the source. He saw her falling for a split second before he heard her hit the ground with a heavy THUMP.

He ran over to her with his little legs.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay?" he shouted.

She lifted herself off of the ground, slowly. She looked disheveled, but otherwise, surprisingly, unharmed, for the most part.

Still, she rolled up her ripped sleeve. On her small arm was a deep-looking cut, probably from one of the branches. "I got a boo-boo," she stated simply, but a little tear went down her cheek.

The boy ripped off a strip of his coat. He walked over to her and wrapped it tightly around his playmate's arm. "Any better?" he asked.

She smiled a little and wiped away the tear. "Thank you," she said.

"We should maybe play something else, I think," the little boy said.

They sat down in the grass. They played I Spy, some Charades, and Funny Faces. Funny Faces was particularly funny as the little girl was a metamorphagus.

She morphed her nose into almost a pig snout and the little boy fell backwards, clutching his sides and laughing harder than he ever remembered.

The sky began to darken, but neither of them noticed- they were having too much fun. But she heard her daddy call, "Honey, it's time to go back to your aunt's house."

She stood up sadly, "I have to go," she told her new friend.

"I don't want you to go," he mumbled.

"I said it was going to be lots of fun," she reminded him.

He looked at the little girl, "Can we meet here tomorrow maybe?"

The little girl looked sadder, "We have to go back home. We were visiting my Aunt Cassedy for a week and that was a week ago."

The little boy stood up, "But we'll always be friends right?"

"Right," the little girl agreed.

"Promise?"

"_Promise." _she made an X over her chest again, "Cross my heart."

Her parents called her again.

"We'll both come back to here, right?" This time, the little girl asked, "Promise?"

The little blond-haired boy mimicked her by drawing an X over his chest. "Cross my heart," he repeated.

As her parents called her for the last time, she told her friend goodbye and ran over to them.

The little boy was left alone in the company of the trees. The darkness began to fall. He watched his playmate leave, her silhouette getting smaller and more distant.

"Cross my heart," he whispered to himself.

He walked back to his less-than-wonderful life.

They both immediately missed their new friend

and they didn't even know their name.

Being children, they didn't want to give up that little ray of hope that they would see each other again. But as children do, they grew up.

They made friends, made enemies, developed their personalities, and matured. They changed in almost every way- they would probably be nearly impossible to recognize even if they did see each other again.

As they grew, childhood memories began to blur and fade. It was only sometimes, when they drifted off, that they randomly remembered something about that day. But the immediate here and now of real life had a tendency to sneak back in and turn their attention away.

Months went by, not a sign of each other. Months turned into years, and the years went flying by.

But a promise was a promise

and a promise knew no age.

* * *

"Sometimes it takes a lot of courage to keep a promise." -unknown


	2. Chapter 2 She is Different

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter *points at J.K. Rowling* she does.

* * *

Sorry I haven't been updating. I haven't had much time for writing. It was a _really _busy week. But, I've got something now, so, continue.

Also, I found that I've been spelling metamorphmagus wrong. Sorry.

(by the way, this takes place in the fifth book)

* * *

"To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world" -Brandi Snyder

"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become" -Charles DuBois

"People change and forget to tell each other" -Lillian Hellman

* * *

She went through her drawers, digging through the untidy wads of clothing. She took something out and momentarily examined it.

"This is stupid," she thought as she threw the blue T-shirt into the trunk sitting by her bed.

Her room was as messy as ever. Not that it wasn't always untidy, but right then, it looked as though a hurricane had unleashed its wrath upon the place. She never had the urge to clean it (not that most people her age did).

She strode across the room and back. She stubbed her toe against her bed post and cursed. You'd think she would have seen that, right? She otherwise would have thought so, too. At the moment, though, her mind was too tired to notice any acute details.

Nearly every surface of the room was covered in some sort of clutter. She had various possessions laid out across the floor and her bed. Most of her drawers were left open and some shelves were even pulled out onto the floor.

She had a well-averaged sized room. Her unmade bed was pushed against the wall. She had a wooden wardrobe, a desk, a wooden dresser, a wooden nightstand, and a rocking chair. The rocking chair was, as she was told, the same one that her parents had often rocked her in when she was a baby and they just couldn't bear to get rid of it.

She had a window right by her bed, out of which she would look down to the street only a story below. From her bed she could see all the muggles going places, walking or driving. She liked how at night, when she sat in her bed, unable to sleep, she could just stare up at the glistening stars.

At the moment, it was well early in the morning. Had it been her choice, she wouldn't even be up at this insane hour. The late morning, almost noon, hour was her wake-up time preference. For whatever reason, certain parentage traits or perhaps just a teenager thing, she found that she had developed a more nocturnal sleeping schedule. She would go to bed at a late hour and arise at a late hour.

It was summer anyway, so normally she would be able to do that.

But no, not today. Today, she and her parents had to live somewhere else for a while. From what they said, they would have to live at the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, wherever that was.

She knew perfectly well what the Order of the Phoenix was, the organization that had gone against Voldemort during the first war- both of her parents had been part of the original group. They were reorganizing again because of Voldemort's recent return.

"Not like the ministry could care less, anyway," she murmured to herself, tossing in a pair of socks. No, more specifically, the _ever so wonderful Minister, Cornelius Fudge,_ couldn't care less- Corny Fudge, as she called him. That power-corrupt idiot could be witnessing the entire wizarding world burning in front of him, and he'd _still_ only care about his job and reputation.

Not to mention former death eaters that were particularly close to the old Fudge-brain. Who knew what they were up to.

What did that have to do with her? Simple. Her father was a werewolf, who were hated by the ministry (for being 'dangerous' and 'below humans') and death eaters (for being 'half-breeds). Lately, the ministry has been suspicious of everyone, to the point of paranoia. Death eaters were trying to convince werewolves to join their ranks, making false promises of a better life to them.

As they explained it, it was probably best if they were "out of plain sight" until things simmered down. Not to mention her parents would have to be ready to be at a meeting on a moment's notice, and they supposedly lived far away from this "meeting place."

She had thought that it would feel more normal. It'd been a while, but they'd moved quite a bit when she was younger. Mainly it was because of the whole job situation. Her mother had just recently quit her job, which had required them to move around a lot and her not to spend as much time as she would have liked to with her family.

Her father was able to get jobs in the muggle world- one reason that they lived on a street mostly consisting of muggles. But, every once in a while, when he was lucky, he'd land a job in the wizarding world- mostly with her mother's help.

Their financial situation wasn't as bad as one might expect at first. Her mother had come from a very financially balanced family and inherited mostly enough money to keep them going when they needed. They would be pretty well safe for a while if it was absolutely necessary.

Her education had been complicated. When she had been younger, she had attended a muggle elementary school. By the time she had reached fifth grade, she had been kicked out of his school for certain reasons. Since then, she had been home-schooled and tutored, on muggle subjects as well as magic ones. "It's good to know," her dad would often say.

Though she never attended it as a student, she had seen Hogwarts before, briefly. It was when her father was teaching- she was 13- that she and her mother visited him during Christmas break for two days. It was only two days because of her mother's busy work schedule.

Like most people, she had been amazed at Hogwarts, even though she had barely seen any of it. She'd also met Harry Potter and his friends. It was a brief meeting, but just long enough to get onto the right foot as friends- something her father was glad of.

Also, during the beginning of last year, she'd met Sirius Black. Her mother and father had invited him to stay with them temporarily while he was in hiding. He stayed for nearly two weeks until he started heading back because of the incident with the Triwizard Tournament. But even during that short space of time, they'd become good friends and Sirius even tried teaching her the ways of a marauder- much to her mother and father's amusement.

She heard a knock on her door. She opened it and saw her father.

She seldom ever saw him look the way he did at that moment. The scars that slashed across looked more pronounced, he had a few pre-mature gray hairs here and there, and he looked immensely tired and worn, not to mention stressed.

But he still wore a small smile for his daughter.

"You almost done?" he asked.

"Um, yeah, almost," she answered. She was supposed to have begun packing yesterday, but she had put it off expecting- if not hoping- that something would change.

She saw him glance past her at the ridiculously cluttered room. "Well," he said, "Just let me know when you are."

She put on a smile and he left.

She glanced over to her half-packed trunk, dropping the smile. It was just so frustrating. She didn't have the slightest idea of where they were going, other than that it was Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. All that was going on outside was overwhelming, too.

Worst of all, she had to hide her fiery temper because she couldn't bring herself to cause her parents more pain. They were already worried enough with what was going on. That worry was rubbing off on her.

_I HATE THIS! _She just wanted to scream it to the world. She wished she could punch something, just to relieve some of the emotions she had.

But that would just get her into trouble. Her infamous temper, it always landed her deep in over her head.

She leaned against the desk. There were various papers spread out, several quill pens, a couple of textbooks, and an ink bottle.

Without thinking, she lashed her hand out at the ink bottle. It knocked over and broke, drenching her hand in the black ink and bleeding through several unimportant papers.

She had only felt a split second of relief, which was soon overcast by her annoyance. Her annoyance of how she would have to clean up the mess, and annoyance at herself for not being able to have controlled the impulse.

She proceeded to the bathroom and grabbed an old, ratty towel. She returned to the mess and used the towel to soak up most of the ink and brush away the ruined ink bottle.

She returned to the bathroom, tossed the soiled towel into the wastebasket, and went to the sink to wash her hands.

As the warm water ran along her hands, she glanced at her reflection. Her face was just as she liked it, average. Being a metamorphmagus, she could have changed it, but she never had the desire to. Her eyes were just as brown as they had been the majority of her life- the same as her father's. She never changed them on a 'permanent' basis.

Her hair, on the other hand, was a different story. When she was younger, she practically changed it everyday- it was one of the reasons she had been bullied. It had always been an unusual color, too- green, pink, electric orange. Her mother had always suggested that she wear a normal-looking color, her father had always told her to be as and who she was and not to listen to anyone who would have her otherwise.

Right now, her hair was a dark violet that just reached below her shoulders. It was what she like best, and how she had it almost always.

That's not to say she didn't mess around with her appearance when she was particularly bored, though.

She was wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. It was practically her uniform. She couldn't stand wearing skirts, high heels, pink, or anything that would give her the impression of being 'overly feminine.'

She turned away from the mirror and went back to her room.

An hour went by before she was adequately packed. She grabbed the trunk from her bedside and headed out the door.

She took one last glance at her room. She tried to convince herself that she would be back soon- but she honestly didn't know, and that was unnerving.

She left her room to join her parents downstairs.


	3. Chapter 3 He is, too

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, that's J.K. Rowling who, last I checked, isn't me. (whoa, deja vu. I feel like I've said this before...)

Hi, I just want to say to the reader who has not just skipped this to read the story a couple of lines below this, thank you for reading. Having readers makes me happy, as many of you fellow authors can understand. What also makes me happy is getting a review. I remember I said somewhere that I wouldn't pester you with this- actually, I think that's my other fan fiction- but it's just something that I wanted to say. Seriously, I become a little kid again when I see in my inbox "new review on " and I read it, and it's a good, nice, heartfelt review.

Phew, got that off my chest. Continue, my friends.

* * *

"When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves" -Victor Frankl

"He who has nothing to die for has nothing to live for" -Moroccan Proverb

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are" - E.E. Cummings

* * *

The outlook wasn't good. Not at all.

He knew Voldemort was back. How could he not? His father had to leave on "business" almost every night now.

There must've been some mission going on, there still probably is, actually. Not that anyone would tell him, though. By all standards, as his father said, he was still a child- still underage, he wanted to correct him- and he couldn't be trusted with such secrets.

His mother had dearly wanted for her and her son to stay out of it. She was a follower of their beliefs and all, but she had motherly instincts, all of which were screaming, _he'll get hurt, he'll be harmed, don't let him, protect him, keep him out of it! _

He didn't know if his father was just abiding by his mother's pleas, or if he really didn't find his son capable. The latter, he figured, definitely the latter.

Did he really want to be a part of it? If he could, would he? What would it involve? Risking life? Risking sanity? Risking- what else did he have? He had so little... so little that mattered...

No, he shook his head, back to original train of thought. Would he? He wanted to be a part of something. He wanted to be something, someone. This was his only option. His one and only option.

Really, was it his _only _option? _No, stop it!_ This is all you know! This is all you've known your entire life. You don't belong there.

I don't? _No!_

He pinched the smooth bridge of his nose- he'd seen adults do it many times. This was how it was every idle moment he had. Idle moments always led to this train of thought. It was almost always the same, no real variation.

He sat on his bed, one foot over the edge, thinking.

His room looked as it did since he was young. It didn't change, other than the transition from baby things- a crib- to more mature things- a bed. Stone walls, stone floors, stone ceiling. It was a cold, dreary atmosphere to say the least.

There were a few windows along one wall of his bedroom. Each were covered with dark emerald drapery- by his parents, for whatever reason- and blocked any sunlight from making it's way through.

But there were lamps, in their artificial glow they lit up the rooms enough. Just enough to keep someone from tripping and killing themselves.

His room held nothing out of the ordinary, certainly nothing any bit spectacular. It had only "necessities"- basic, though elegant, furniture, his robes, a few of his favorite books in a dark wood shelf. Everything was tidy, perfectly spiffy, "courtesy" of their house elves.

Well, it's not as though they only had _one _house elf. In a manor this large, one could get through with it in, maybe, a month. And it wasn't just cleaning that they would do, there was the cooking and whatever else they were told. They must've had, at least, twenty or so house elves.

That fact never bothered him. Why should it? There were elves at Hogwarts, too, weren't there?

He raised himself off of his bed. He changed out of his pajamas and into one of his expensive robes. He ignored the reflection in the mirror in front of him, imitating him as he changed. He didn't look at the pale, thin figure, the white-blond hair, the gray eyes, or the sharp chin. Except, maybe a quick glance.

He started to cross the room to make his way down to breakfast, but he stopped halfway. After hesitating slightly, he went over to the window and pulled back the curtain slightly. He stared at the bright, outside world for only a moment before proceeding to the dining hall.

As he entered the large, dining hall, he was thoroughly disappointed to see his father still at the table. He hated it when he had to sit with the man.

He figured that, maybe, he could sneak away and back up to his room. There, he could wait for his father to leave.

Too late, he already saw him.

His father glanced up from _The Daily Prophet _and looked straight into his son's eyes.

At that moment, he felt like a young, cowering child, again-

_"Father?"_

_"I see you decided not to listen to me."_

_"I don't get it."_

_"You're clothes are dirty and ripped, and you may as well reek of guilt."_

_"I didn't-"_

_"Silence, boy! You have forgotten who you are! Your disobedience disappoints me! You shame me!" _

He was pulled back to reality, but he still felt panicky. He then could have kicked himself. He obviously hadn't had his mental barriers up, which meant his father could have easily used Legilimency.

He forced himself to look into his father's eyes again. This time, he made sure his mental barriers were up. Even if his father had seen his little flashback, his expression didn't soften. But then again, it very scarcely did.

"You are awake, I see," his father said in a business-like tone.

"You are still here, I see," he said, observing, with all of the confidence he could muster.

"Yes, evidently," his father scowled slightly.

"And why?" asked daringly

"I will not need to see the minister, likely, for several more weeks. As for other- how shall we say- _matters, _I will not need to attend to them until later today," he peered at his son, not showing any visible emotions, other than, perhaps, superiority, "Perhaps, you wish me to leave?" he asked.

But he knew that his probably father had no intention of leaving, "Why would you think that?" he said dryly.

"Well, you see," his father explained now sneering, "I couldn't help but notice your- little reaction."

He just narrowed his eyes, not knowing what he could say. He turned on his heel to head back up-stairs.

"Oh- and one more thing," his father added.

He turned back to look at the man.

"I do hope that, in the future, you will express more _self-control,_ alright?" he said in a fake-fatherly voice.

It was his turn to sneer, "_No doubt._"

He swept out of the dining hall.

He hated the man- he was terrified of him, but he couldn't help but put attitude towards him. Any chance he would find some way to subtly stand up to him, at least in his mind.

But it still pierced him in the gut when he did something to disappoint him. Was that normal? He wouldn't know.

He took one of the many staircases, not particularly caring where he was going. He'd lived in the manor his whole life, yet he'd still barely gotten used to it's layout- it was so large.

That's not to say that Hogwarts wasn't large and confusing, as well as hardly navigable. But, despite whatever he said about it, he greatly preferred Hogwarts. Any excuse to get away from his accursed father...

If he hated him so much, why did he boast about him? He often wondered that, too. Maybe he knew that he wasn't in the desirable father-son relationship, so he made one up. Maybe he didn't want anyone else to know. Maybe he wanted to fool them. Maybe he wanted to fool himself.

_Stop it! _

He decided the library would be best. Yes, the library, with all it's lovely informational distractions.

And he spent his whole day there. He summoned house elves several times to get something to eat. He didn't want to be unpleasantly surprised by his father again.

It was always at nightfall that his father would always leave on "business." At precisely 7:00 that evening, since he wanted to watch him leave, he left the library.

He went down one of the side halls and went down the side staircase. He found himself on the second floor of the entrance hall, overlooking the floor below. He stayed out of their view as much as he could as he watched.

His father was talking to his mother, "This will likely take longer than usual," he told her as though she was just a concerned friend, at best, "I trust things will not get out of order in my absence."

"Of course," his mother said as though she was mimicking one of their house elves.

His father made his way to the large front door. He placed his hand on the handle, but before he opened the door, he made a glance over his shoulder.

Somehow, his eyes met his son's. Shivers ran down his spine as his father exited the large manor. It was his preferred way of leaving, apparently. As he worked it out, his father would get to the border of their manor- the apparation border- and apparate to wherever. He probably didn't use floo because a) the ministry would be able to track where he was going and b) he didn't like how messy it could be.

Normally, he liked to be able to see his father go. Be assured that he was gone. This time, though, it just gave him the chills.

He stayed up until his eyes stung. He could hardly wait until summer vacation was over- then he'd have something to do.

He dragged himself to bed at the latest hour possible. He went to sleep only thinking only about how tired he was.

_So who do you want to be?_

_Hm, good question, I don't know the answer. _

_Are you sure?_

_What's there to be sure about?_

_What isn't there to be sure about?_

_Perhaps you are confusing me_

_Perhaps you are confusing yourself_

_But you are me_

_And I am you_

_It's almost funny_

_So you think this is a joke? _

_It might be, it could be_

_Oh go drown yourself!_

_Really?_

_Perhaps you should_

_Maybe I don't want to_

_Maybe that's all you want to do_

_But drowning is an awful way_

_You don't have much else_

_Nothing noble_

_Nothing worthy_

_No point_

_No hope_

_No light_

_No really?_

_Who am I?_

_Who are you?_

_What is this?_

_What is your life?_

_NO!_

_RED EYES, THEY GLOW AT YOU_

_THEY ARE GOING TO USE YOU_

_THEY ARE GOING TO TAKE YOU_

_THEY ARE GOING TO KILL YOU_

_THEY-_

STOP!

He swung straight up, breathing hard. It was dark in his room, unidentifiable shapes- but he wasn't a child.

He collapsed into his pillow. He felt his hands going through his hair and over his slightly sweating forehead. He hated it when that happened. That was his idea of a nightmare. It wasn't particularly frightening, but it sure petrified him. It was when his mind was really full or really stressed that he had dreams like that. No shapes, no visual, no sound, really. Just thoughts, all nonsense thoughts.

And it was about that point when he found himself with a heavy case of insomnia. It was going to be a _bad_ week.


	4. Chapter 4 Familiar? Nah

Disclaimer: I don't, never have, and never will own Harry Potter. If I did, than my name would be J.K. Rowling and you wouldn't be reading this.

Read on!

* * *

"Acceptance of one's life has nothing to do with resignation; it does not mean running away from the struggle. On the contrary, it means accepting it as it comes, with all the handicaps of heredity, of suffering, of physiological complexes and injustices." -Dr. Paul Tournier

* * *

He stayed in his bed for another hour or so, just staring into the darkness. He knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep. Really, what else was he to do? Sneak out?

He sat up in his bed. He could possibly sneak out. Obviously, he wouldn't be as foolish with it as he was when he was a child- but, if he was clever enough with it…

He threw the blankets off. He formulated his plan as he pulled on his clothing. He wasn't going to just walk out, no, that would be stupid and childish. He summoned the lights on.

"Daney," he whispered.

A small house elf appeared in front of him and bowed, "Yes, young master? What does young master need from Daney?"

"Listen, Daney, I need your help," he said in a quiet voice, not really sure why, he doubted that anyone would be able to hear unless they were purposely pressing their ears against the door. It seemed appropriate for the situation.

"Yes, young master?"

"I'm going to be going out," he told the house elf as he pulled on his shoes, "but mother and father aren't aware and that's how it will remain, understand?"

Daney nodded obediently.

"Don't tell them where I am if they ask," he opened his wooden wardrobe, "and when they get too suspicious, come and tell me, and then apparate me back here, to the manor," he looked back at the house elf, "Understand?"

"Yes, sir," said the small house elf.

It was so simple, he was surprised he hadn't thought of it when he was younger. It would have saved him a great deal of pain…

He grabbed his wand, pocketed it, and went through one of his shelves. Finding it, he pulled out a purple bag of money and also pocketed it.

He pulled on a dark, inconspicuous-looking coat. Before he headed out, he stopped. A strange feeling of déjà vu swept over him.

She held her head up with her hand as she leaned against the wooden table, barely hearing what her parents said. She knew what they were saying, what they always said, "Now, we need to know if you're okay with it. You can tell us if you're not."

She didn't see how she could. And what difference would it make?

Of course she wasn't happy about it- if that's what they meant by "okay." What teenager is happy about leaving their home? Even if they've already done it a few times before, considering how much they moved…

She wished she could yell or shout at someone. Maybe punch something. She wasn't accustomed to bottling her feelings like this.

She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Packing her trunk had woken her up temporarily, but sitting and not doing much had made her drowsy again.

She glanced briefly at the discolored area on her arm. She remembered how she had gotten it; when she was younger and playing with a boy. She used to wonder what had happened to him. Poor kid…

It was always more visible in the summer/early fall weather- or just whenever it was warmer, for two reasons. One, she would wear short sleeve shirts when it's warmer, allowing people to see the exposed skin. Two, scars didn't tan, obviously, so it's paleness would stand out from the surrounding skin. Being a metamorphmagus, she knew that she could always 'hide it,' but she never saw the need.

She forgot what was going on.

"Avy?"*

Her eyes flew open, startled. She realized she had fallen asleep. She sat up in her chair, trying to fight off the tiredness.

She didn't like it when they called her 'Avy,' but she supposed it was better than their old nickname for her. She shuddered slightly, at the thought of it.

"Are you sure that there's nothing bothering you- about this?"

"What?- oh, no, of course not," she lied.

Her mother looked at her with some concern, "Are you _really _sure, honey? I mean, if there's something you're concerned about, or aren't sure of, we want to know."

"No, really, I'm fine. I'll live. It's just living somewhere else for a while, no big deal, right?" she said, doing her best to sound unconcerned.

"It actually is a 'big deal,'" her father said, "And if you don't like it, we should know."

Why? Why would her not liking it change anything? Why should she tell them that? They ask so much, don't they already know?

"_Really,_" she said, trying to put as much sincerity into her voice as she could, "I don't have a problem with it."

She saw her parents' eyes on her, as though expecting her to suddenly change her mind and spill her thoughts out to them. She did no such thing- not that she didn't want to- and that seemed to be the end of it.

She soon found herself walking out the door with her trunk, following her parents. They warily kept glancing at her, something she tried to ignore. She saw her father put an arm around her mother, and her mother cuddled into him. She just gave an inaudible sigh.

She was very lucky, in terms of her parents, actually. Even though her father was a werewolf, her mother loved him enough to be able to look beyond the society-set prejudices and accept the risks. Also, her mother was a firm enough woman to stay with her husband, despite his immediate concerns. And even though he was a werewolf, he was a very kind, good-hearted man.

Despite her father's expert control over it, inside him was a wolf. That wolf had an extremely dangerous temper. Unfortunately for her, she inherited that bad temper, and she didn't inherit the control.

She was half-werewolf but, much to her father's relief, she didn't transform during the full moon but, she did get especially temperamental. She did inherit the super-human senses- acute hearing, sensitive smell, sharp sight, longer endurance, and an odd sleeping schedule.

On the other hand, she inherited her father's love of chocolate.

They reached the edge of the sidewalk. Her father took his wand out of his coat pocket and held it out towards the street.

* * *

He crept his way towards the back door. He didn't want to exit the manor using the main doors, there was too much chance that someone would be along that route.

He didn't dare summon the light on, either. He had to use his knowledge of the layout- and the faint light that emitted from various magical objects- to navigate.

He kept glancing back and around corners and jumping at the slightest of sounds. His heart raced. What if he got caught? Would his parents believe he was just heading to the kitchens to get water? That was the oldest excuse in history.

He felt against the wall, his hand searching for the doorknob. He found it, and clutched it in his hand. He opened the door tentatively, and let out a relieved sigh at the feel of the cool, early morning air.

He stepped outside. The sky was beginning to light, pink colored the distant horizons. He barely gave the manor behind him an unconcerned glance before heading off.

Where would he go? How would he get there? What would he do? So many possibilities were open to him. But he had to be careful. If his father ever got word of what he was doing- he shuddered at the thought.

He walked swiftly. Diagon Alley, he thought. Possibly take a detour to Knockturn Alley. That was a start. He could figure out where he would go later, if anywhere.

He reached the nearest street and, without hesitation, held out his wand.

There was a sudden screech of tires and a purple, triple-decker bus came barreling down the street. The words "Knight Bus" streaked across the window in large, blazing gold letters.

"Hello," the conductor in the purple uniform droned. He was a tall, gangly man with long, brown hair tied back, "My name is Roy Worme, and I will be your conductor for this morning. Welcome to the Knight Bus, convenient transportation for any witch or wizard," he eyed the teenager in front of him, "Where would you like to go?"

"Diagon Alley," he answered immediately.

"We can take you to the Leaky Cauldron, and you can make your way on through there," Worme droned.

"Fine," he agreed listlessly.

"That'll be eleven sickles. For extra, you can have chocolate, a bottle of water, or a toothbrush."

"No," he said as he paid the money.

"Good," Worme muttered.

He brushed past the conductor. There were beds instead of seats. He looked to be one of the few passengers on the bus.

He gave an odd glance towards the conductor before he went to get on one of the beds.

"Wait a minute," Worme said, stopping him, "Probably should, anyway," he mumbled as he raised his wand. The beds disappeared and were replaced with chairs.

He sat in one of the chairs.

"Hey, Ernie," said Worme, "Got another," he pointed to the dashboard. On it was some kind of signal light, currently blinking. There was a map below it flashing a corresponding color on another street.

The bus sped into motion to pick up the new passengers.

* * *

The knight bus wheeled in front of them.

The conductor stepped out, "Welcome to the Knight bus, convenient transportation for any witch or wizard. I'm Roy Worme, and I will be your conductor this morning. Where will you all be heading?"

Her father told him the street quietly.

"Really?" said Worme in vague interest, "That's a first. Well, two galleons and twelve sickles for the lot."

Her dad paid the money and they climbed aboard. She glanced around the interior. Three decks, a chandelier, and chairs that were free to slide around. There were only three other visible passengers- a business witch, a wizard with an unbelievable amount of tattoos, and a blond teenage boy. All were separated and oblivious to each other, so they obviously weren't all together.

As they sat down, she felt the boy's eyes on her. She looked up to see him staring at her hair.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped.

"Purple hair? Really?" he smirked.

"Do you have some kind of problem with it?"

"Maybe I do," he slouched back in his chair. He glanced at her parents, and suddenly looked away from them.

She shook her head at him. A jerk, that's what he was. She hated jerks.

Still, there was some strange feeling she had about him. Uneasiness, she supposed.

* * *

She had purple hair, for Merlin's sake! How could anyone _not_ stare!

He recognized the man with her straight away. Professor Lupin, no doubt. He could only guess that the woman with him was his wife, and the girl was his daughter.

He had a fear of werewolves, so he scooted away slightly. Knowing that Lupin would recognize him, he turned his head away and occupied him with the sights outside the window.

He zoned out, watching the world zoom by.

He could have sworn he had seen that girl before.

Must've been a family resemblance. That explained it.

* * *

* (Ay-vee) it's not her full name, it's a nickname. I'm looking for the right time to reveal her name, though it's not particularly important. If anyone is particularly curious, send me a message and I'll just tell you. Same for her mother.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are brilliant. If you spot any plot flaws, kindly let me know and I'll try to correct them.

Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5 They Know Your Name

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does. I am not J.K. Rowling.

"Despair is anger with no place to go" -Mignon McLaughlin, _The Neurotic's Notebook_, 1960

* * *

The triple-decker Knight Bus barreled on it's way. The passengers were jostled violently with every turn.

All the while, the two refused to look at each other, or pay the other any mind. Not that they were consciously aware of that, though.

"Hey, you," Worme called to him, "We'll be at the Leaky Cauldron soon."

Relief flooded him. The bus came to a screeching halt, throwing all of the passengers, including him, onto the floor. He stood up, regained his composure, and exited the death vehicle.

"Never again," he swore to himself, stepping onto the street.

He heard Worme give an indignant "Guffaw" behind him before slamming the doors shut.

The bus gave a deafening BANG before speeding out of sight. He ignored the crowd of oblivious muggles, and walked towards the Leaky Cauldron.

He pulled his hood over his head and stepped into the pub.

He had no intention of lingering in the overcrowded place. In the few times he'd been there, he'd hardly seen it so full. Tom the barkeep was bustling around, trying to manage all of the customers. Some were at the bar, drinking various unidentifiable liquids- there was one he could have sworn almost moved out of the glass on it's own. Others were seated at the tables, eating meals and chatting with friends or family. Several headed up to their rooms upstairs. A few were even conducting business; one, very short fellow was in the corner, exchanging items and bickering about what must've been price with someone.

And there were those, such as himself, who were trying to navigate through all the mess to Diagon Alley.

But then, a gruff man stopped abruptly, almost directly in front of him.

"Hey, I've been looking for you," he grunted.

The man held his hand out- he held his breath. Had he been caught?- and gently placed on the shoulder of the young woman next to him.

He let out a relieved sigh and brushed past the couple, who were embracing lovingly.

For a moment there, he thought that man had been looking for- and found- him. He _did _remind him of one of his father's cronies.

He made his way out to the back, only to be greeted by another sea of people. The barrier stood open, allowing free passage to those arriving and exiting the alley.

He entered the alley and walked to a dark corner along the side of a dingy, seldom-used broom shop.

The large crowed, he supposed, could work either to his advantage or against him. In a large crowd, when it took immense effort and concentration just to move forward, who would have time to notice one person? On the other hand, the more people there were, the more chance that at least one of them would be glad to sell him out.

Or, if they saw him, would they just assume he was there with his father?

His stomach gave a lurch at a sudden thought. What if his father was there and he saw him?

He had to reassure himself, "No one will recognize you if you keep your hood up," he thought to himself.

He adjusted his hood to further conceal his face. There were rumors at Hogwarts that Potter had an invisibility cloak. How he desperately needed one at that moment.

But, he was finally away from his blasted life. He might as well enjoy himself.

He doubted he would find anything of much interest to him in Diagon Alley. Turning on his heel, he headed down the street to Knockturn Alley.

The dark, almost gloomy alley was considerably less crowded than Diagon Alley. The only ones that were there had hoods, like him, and were intent on getting to their destinations without wasting time. In this setting, he thankfully did not look too inconspicuous.

The first shop that caught his eye was Borgin and Burkes. In the few times he had been to Knockturn Alley, Borgin and Burkes was where he had visited most often. As for the other shops, he could explore them later.

He stepped into the eerie, dusty shop, almost warily. Borgin stood at the counter, watching the newcomer intently. He walked over to one of the closer shelves. The shelves were littered with various crystal vials holding different potions and powders. A glowing red one caught his eye.

"Borgin, what is that?" he asked the shopkeeper.

Borgin walked over to him, "I'm sorry sir, but I have to see your face in order to conduct business. It's store protocol."

That made his spirits lower and he felt himself frown. But he could make Borgin keep quiet, right?

"Alright. But if you reveal my whereabouts to anyone- namely my father- I'll kill you," he warned in as dangerous a voice as he could. It was a completely empty threat, though. He'd never be able to kill anyone. He didn't have the wits for it, as he was reminded all too often. At any rate, he'd never want to, either. He didn't want to do anything that would make him like his father, seeing him as the man he was…

Borgin just nodded courteously. He acted as though he received that threat often enough. The only thing that betrayed him were his hands, as his fingers intertwined and fiddled nervously.

Slowly, he removed his hood, showing his pale complexion and steely gray eyes that closely monitored Borgin's reaction.

Borgin almost broke into a nasty- or amused- smile, "Ah, Mr. Draco Malfoy," he said, "I can see why you wouldn't want your father to know. Unaccompanied, then?"

Draco faked a smile, "That's hardly your concern, Mr. Borgin."

"Of course not," Borgin said with professional courtesy.

"So, this stays between us?" Draco tried adding additional threat to his tone.

"As with all my customers," said the shopkeeper, "Unless, of course, the law is involved, but," he gave a dry chuckle, though his eyes were still dead fixed on the teenager before him, "I doubt such will end up being the case with you, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco ignored Borgin's taunt, or whatever his comment was mean to be, "But, returning to my original question-"

"Ah, yes. Of course. My sincerest apologies," Borgin held the crystal vial, "An excellent eye you have, Mr. Malfoy. This," he held up the vial, "is fire acid. Though, I must warn you, it always comes very concentrated, very strong. I'd say a drop or two in about two liters is a safe amount."

"What exactly is this 'fire acid?'" the teenager asked him. He may have heard of it, but if he had, he'd never been told exactly what is was.

"Well, I assume you're familiar with firewhiskey, correct?" Borgin asked. Draco nodded his head a fraction. "Well, fire acid is the ingredient that gives firewhiskey it's 'kick,' so to speak. But, as I said, barely a drop is used in one large bottle. If a person were to consume too much- well, let's just say the effect wouldn't be… pleasant."

Draco regarded the little vial of glowing red liquid, "Dare I ask what it's made of?"

Borgin answered knowledgably, "Mostly, it is made from Phoenix blood. A very good buy, if I may say so."

Draco took the vial from Borgin and held it up to eye level. The crystal glittered and the fire acid glowed at him almost menacingly.

He could probably buy it. He might even force-feed it to Potter at Hogwarts, just so he could feel superior for once in his life. Who knows, his father might even applaud him for it- _that_ would be the day.

* * *

The Knight Bus jerked to a halt in front of a row of sorry-looking houses. As she stepped out, she could feel the gloom seeping into her mind. She shook her head.

Her eyes scanned the street. Gloom was dominant, shabbiness was next. Most of the plants were wild an unkept. Ivy took over entire sides of houses and even climbed over to the next. The grass was overgrown in nearly every lawn.

The houses themselves looked old and worn. The paint on doors were peeling off, as well as the address numbers beside them.

The street itself seemed abandoned. She didn't see a single person there other than them.

Some people even had their battered windows open, but even they seemed oblivious to the family and Knight Bus screeching off. She saw one young man through one of the open windows making out with a girl his age. She abruptly turned away from the sight.

Her dad took a piece of parchment out of his cloak pocket. He handed it to her mother who looked at it tentatively. Her mother then handed it to her.

"Read it, honey," her mum said.

It was written in large, loopy handwriting:

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

"Is this where we are?" she asked her parents.

"Yes," her dad answered her.

He walked to the space between Number 11 and Number 13. She got confused. Where was Number 12? Wasn't the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters there?

She thought back to what she had read on the parchment. But as she did, a building squeezed and grew between the two others. The two others squished away, leaving room for Number 12.

Her mouth almost went ajar. How could muggles not notice that?

"Come on, now," her dad coaxed.

He stepped up to the door and his family followed. He tapped his wand against the door and stepped in.

He addressed his daughter, "You have to be very quiet while we're here."

"Why?"

"I'll explain later," he held up the piece of parchment, "I need to get this back to Alastor, and, Persephone," he addressed her mum, "We need to get to the meeting."

"Avy," her mum told her, "You're sharing a room with Hermione. Just go up those stairs, go right and take the second left, alright?"

"Yes, mum," she blankly.

"I'll be there after the meeting to explain, promise," her dad promised.

"Alright," she looked forward to an explanation.

A man clanked in on a wooden leg. He had a swiveling glass eye, darting between them all, "Thought I saw you lot come in," he flashed a glare at them, "I saw that stunt you pulled. Risky move, having the Knight Bus come all the way over here."

"Moody, please."

Moody grumbled something, "Meeting's on, it's important. Tonks said she would be late."

Her mother repeated the directions to her. She said goodbye to her parents, gave another glance at the strange man- Moody, she thought- and was left alone in the hall.

If she thought the outside was gloomy, it was nothing compared to this. The lighting was terrible. Wallpaper was peeling off. Dust covered most surfaces, while some of it floated in the air. The airborne dust she breathed kept her coughing. The wood on the floor creaked and some floorboards were out of place. A dusty, cobweb-covered chandelier hung above her.

It obviously used to be a grand house, but time and lack of care took it over.

She walked up the stairs, and they creaked with each step. Her hand ran along the dust-covered banister.

Walking, she noted the various wall coverings. Most were portraits, with their nasty eyes following her as she went past them. She glared back at them and ignored them thereafter. After she took the right, she got confused. Was she supposed to take the second left, or the second right? She glanced behind her, maybe she was supposed to have taken a left the first time.

She walked back and went down the other hallway. She was hoping she'd find someone along the way, but the only ones around that she could tell were the portraits, and she had a feeling that they wouldn't help.

By then, she was getting insecure and fidgety. It only got worse when she came across a series of plaques. Mounted on the plaques were the heads of heavily-aged house-elves, hung on the wall in a row in the same manner hunters hung deer heads.

Her breath caught in her chest and she took and involuntary step back. She jumped and scrambled away when she felt a fabric.

Heavy, blood-red curtains covered something. She moved closer to inspect it. It might be hiding a window, possibly. She reached out and felt the hard, course fabric. She could have sworn she heard hard breathing coming from behind.

She moved to tentatively open the curtain when-

CRASH! Crash!

She only heard the frantic shout of "Sorry!" before another screaming took over. High-pitched, earsplitting screaming from behind the curtain rang out.

The scarlet curtains flew open and knocked the shocked girl away. She covered her ears from the overwhelming screams.

_"TRAITORS! FILTH! MUDBLOODS, BLOOD TRAITORS, AND HALF-BREEDS! SCUM IN MY NOBLE HOUSE!"_

Apparently, behind the curtains had been a portrait. A woman with a gaunt face, black hair, and ruby-red lipstick was screaming in hate and rage.

With all the noise, she wasn't able to hear footsteps, so it took her by surprise when someone came to the scene.

She was a young adult, with pink spiky hair wearing shorts, boots, and a shirt displaying her favorite band. She tugged on the curtains, which refused to shut. She kept trying to no success, the woman's screams and rants still going on.

"I NEED SOME HELP HERE!" The pink-haired woman shouted.

Before long, two men showed up- her father and Sirius. Sirius only gave a short look, resentment-filled look at the portrait before shooting a spell at it. The curtains writhed- the screaming ceased- and abruptly shut closed.

Sirius spoke first, "Sorry about the scare, she has that effect on people," he said bitterly, "My mother, old hag- one of the reasons I left home." He sulked back downstairs.

Remus helped his daughter up from the floor, "I'm sorry, I should have realized you wouldn't be able to get around on your own the first time," he looked to the pink-haired woman, "Tonks, can you show her the way to her room. I need to get back to the meeting."

Tonks gave a shrug, "Sure, Lupin."

"Avy, this is Tonks- I need to go, I'll explain afterwards," he, too, walked back downstairs.

It was always explain later, wasn't it? And Sirius's mother's portrait? What was that doing here?

She turned to Tonks to see her examining her purple hair.

"You wouldn't happen to be a metamorphmagus, too, would you?" Tonks asked her.

She took note of Tonk's pink hair, "You're one, too?" she felt a small bit of excitement.

Metamorphmagi were quite rare. Neither of the two in the hall had met another besides them. They conversed as they walked, naturally getting along well.

"Purple, huh? Never really wore that color, gotta try it sometime," Tonks noted.

"What caused that crash earlier, anyway?" she asked her new-found friend.

"Uh," Tonks looked slightly embarrassed, "Well, that was me. I keep tripping over that blasted umbrella stand. Dead-clumsy, I am. Almost didn't pass the Auror test because of it. Though, I passed the disguises test with flying colors."

"It probably helped to be a metamorphmagus," she noted.

Tonks gave a laugh, "Loads."

They reached the room. Tonks also left for the meeting, leaving the purple-haired girl in front of the door. Without hesitating much- she didn't particularly want to be there alone very long- knocked on the door.

"Come in," she heard from inside.

She opened the door to find three beds fit in the room. The walls were thankfully free of any ominous portraits, though were still littered with various paintings. The environment matched that of the rest of the house, except there being more lamps, which caused considerably better lighting.

On one of the beds, a bushy-haired girl had been reading absentmindedly. She lowered her book to see the visitor.

She gave her a curious look, not recognizing her immediately, "Oh, hello," she greeted.

"Hi," she stumbled for her name, she remembered seeing her at Hogwarts when she briefly visited a few years back, "You're-" she couldn't remember her name.

"Hermione Granger," she finished. She squinted at her again, "Oh! You're Professor Lupin's daughter. Av-" she, too, stumbled over the other girl's name, "Avora?" she guessed, an embarrassed smile on her face.

"Avanne," she corrected, "Almost had it. I don't blame you for not remembering- it's not really a name you hear to often."

"Yeah," Hermione mused, "Same with mine. But I would think that would make it more recognizable, wouldn't you?"

Avanne shrugged, "You'd think, but add on the couple of years."

Hermione smiled understandably, "True."

Avanne thought getting to the point would be best, "Well, uh," she stumbled over how to say it, "I'm going to have to be staying here with my family, so-" she stopped, hoping that Hermione would pick up the rest.

Thankfully, she did.

"Oh, well," she ushered toward one of the beds, "That one would yours, Ginny sleeps in the other one."

Avanne put her trunk by the said bed, "Ginny?"

"Ron's little sister," Hermione explained patiently.

The young metamorphmagus thought again, "He was the one with the freckles and red hair, right?" she asked.

"The reddest hair I've seen," Hermione answered with a little glint in her eyes.

"Sounds like someone's got a crush," Avanne joked, taking out a few things from her trunk and laying them out on the end table.

Hermione flushed, "I do not!" she protested a little to quickly.

"Don't what, Herms?" said the red-haired boy, striding in. He stopped at the sight of the purple-haired girl, now sitting on her bed.

He glanced a questioning look at Hermione. A weird, almost embarrassed, look shown on his face- it was almost funny to look at.

"Avanne Lupin," she finally said after silence.

Ron scrunched his face up at that, as though trying to remember something.

"We met her during the holidays," Hermione helped.

Recognition still didn't reach the redhead's face.

"Third year, Ronald!" Hermione sighed exasperatingly.

Finally, the recognition gleamed on his face, "Ooh, Professor Lupin's daughter."

Avanne decided to pull off some sarcasm, "That's the new label, apparently."

Ron muttered a small, "Sorry."

"No matter, ought to get used to it," she rolled her eyes.

They were soon joined by Ron's little sister, Ginny. The introductions went by again. The four of them lapsed into conversation.

As Avanne laughed at one of Ron's classic jokes, the ever so cliché thought crossed her mind, "Maybe it won't be so bad."

As an afterthought, she cringed. She set the taboo. She expected the storm of misery to set in any moment because of her carelessness.

* * *

Finally, finished it! It ended up longer than I thought, and I still didn't get to the point that I had originally hoped. But, for the sake of consistency, I'll just put it in the next chapter. Tell me what you think.

The names have been revealed (not that you didn't know Draco's from the very beginning). Yes, she has a weird name, something you probably never have and never will hear anywhere else- judging from my own personal experience, anyway. I hope she doesn't get labeled as a Mary-Sue for that and that's she's a metamorphmagus. She's got flaws, trust me.

Oh, the joy of foreshadowing. I was hoping to do more in this chapter, but it'll just have to go into the next.

Reviews are most appreciated! I'm open to kind suggestions! Also, kindly point out any grammar, spelling, vocabulary, or plot errors I overlooked. It's best to know these things early-on.


	6. Chapter 6 Family Face off

Disclaimer: Repetition of this message will somehow further emphasize that I am not, in fact, J.K. Rowling, so, in result, I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

"There is no greater blessing than a family hand that lifts you from a fall; but there is not lower curse than a family hand that strikes you when you're down" -Wes Fessler

"He who establishes his argument by noise and command shows that his reason is weak" -Michel de Montaigne

* * *

Draco stepped through the same door he had left. By then, the day was almost over. The sun began to disappear along the distant horizon, creating reds and oranges in the sky. The skyline showed the dark silhouettes of the trees and the large manor before him.

He stepped into the manor, and shut the door behind him quietly.

He crept along the hallways, as catlike as he could manage. He almost made it to his room when-

"And where, exactly, were you?" came a stern voice.

His heart jumped into his throat. He turned on the spot and looked his mother in the eye.

"How'd you know?" he asked, trying to sound cool and composed.

"Oh, surely you haven't forgotten," she explained stiffly, "I have more authority over the house-elves than you do. I noticed Daney was acting strangely, but he refused to tell me why, so I ordered him to. Now, I'll ask again," his mother took a step toward him, "_Where were you?_"

"Out," he snapped.

"Out _where?_" her nostrils flaring slightly.

"That's none of your concern," he swept to his door. His fist clenched, too- that bloody house-elf.

"Draco Malfoy, if you don't tell me where you were," she threatened, crossing her arms, "I _will _tell your father."

He froze and his head snapped his towards his mother, "He doesn't know?"

"He doesn't know, _yet_."

That wasn't too difficult a decision- tell his mother where he went (even though it seemed like she wouldn't care less) or risk his father knowing, which would surely be the end of him.

"I went to Knockturn Alley," he seethed.

"Why were you there?" his mother prodded.

He gave her an unconcerned shrug, "I was bored and I wanted to get out."

Narcissa's eyes scanned her son. She searched for some sign of deceit, as though it would just be hanging over his head in giant letters. The idea of her son being at Knockturn Alley didn't worry her in the slightest, it was what else he may have been doing- like trying to join the Death Eaters behind her back. That's what scared her senseless.

"Room, _now_," she snarled.

"That was exactly where I was going," he replied cheekily.

"Don't you mouth-off to me, young man," she reprimanded, but he had already slammed the door behind him.

That house-elf, he swore to himself, would get it.

Well, Avanne finally got her explanation. Her dad came to her room after the meeting to give it to her.

"So, what exactly is this place?" Avanne asked as Hermione left the room.

"Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius's old house- he grew up here. He's… not exactly glad to be back," Remus explained to his daughter.

"Then, why is he here?"

"It has better protection wards than most other places. Ancient house, long-lasting protection spells. He offered to have it used as Headquarters- he probably didn't want to be alone here, anyway," he told her.

"Aren't there other places that could've been used?" she thought out loud.

"We did consider Hogwarts at first," Remus said, "It would've been well-protected, of course, but there was a major problem."

"What?"

"Fudge doesn't want the Order of the Phoenix to re-group. He's been searching for evidence that we've been. Hogwarts would've been the first place he would've gone to."

She gave an exasperated sigh. Stupid minister, he was so adamant on being a stupid, ignorant, blubbering, idiot. Honestly, she almost hoped that Voldemort would get rid of the man- _almost_. Without realizing it, her hands balled into fists.

Remus sensed her building anger and tried to defuse it.

"Everyone will know, eventually, I'm sure," he offered, "Molly almost has dinner ready, you should probably wash up," he closed the door behind him.

She unclenched her fists and laid her hands out flat, hoping it would help. Even if everyone would eventually know, how would that help _her_? If anything, she and her family would be even more targeted, because they'd all think that the werewolves would automatically go to Voldemort.

The door opened again, and Ginny poked her head in.

"Dinners ready, are you coming?" she asked the purple-haired girl.

"Yeah," she jumped off the bed and followed Ginny.

She stayed close behind Ginny. She knew that she would immediately become lost again if left alone for too long. At any rate, she had a less-than-wonderful sense of direction.

Arriving into the musty dining room, she took a seat near the man she saw earlier. She could almost feel that electric-blue, glass eye following her.

She poured water into her goblet and pressed it against her lips when-

"And what do you think your doing?" Moody snapped.

She almost dropped the goblet. The water spilled on the table as she gave a startled jump.

"What was that for?" she demanded.

Moody pointed a battered finger at her, "You missy, need to be more careful. Need to keep your wits about you!"

"_What_?" Avanne asked, confused and annoyed.

"Suppose someone slipped poison into that drink of yours! You just drink casually, like that, and you'd be dead! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" everyone at the table jumped.

"Moody, for Merlin's sake, enough already!" Tonks spoke up, "I doubt anyone here would want to slip anything into her water."

"But that's what they all think, isn't it?" Moody argued, "And the people outside here aren't exactly trustworthy! Could do anything to you!"

Tonks rubbed her brow with her hand, "Look, you got tricked into spending almost a year in a trunk while some mad-man imposter masqueraded around as you. _It's over, let it go._"

Moody was about to retort something angrily, when someone behind him spoke up, "Alastor, I'm sure Miss Lupin has nothing to worry about here."

Avanne turned around to see her defender. Her mouth almost dropped open in surprise and awe. The old man was unmistakable, immensely long, silver beard, half-moon spectacles, a unique fashion sense.

As Moody grumbled, Dumbledore took a seat next to her.

"So," said the old man, "Shall we being seeing you at Hogwarts?"

"Uh," she gave a glance to her parents, who were helping out Mrs. Weasley, "I-I'm not really sure."

"And why is that?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, um," she stuttered timidly, "The whole point of, um, you know, coming here was to avoid… erm, stay safe… wasn't it?" she could've slapped herself for sounding like an idiot in front of the world's greatest wizard.

"I'm sure Hogwarts will be perfectly safe," Dumbledore said kindly.

"Uh, yeah, I'm sure," she agreed, "I'm sure it would."

"What do you think, Persephone, Remus?" Dumbledore addressed to her parents.

"Well," her mum said as she stirred something, "I know I want her to be able to get a proper magical education. And," she handed plates to Remus, "I know I want her to be able to spend more time with people her age."

"Also," Remus said as he placed plates on the table, "If someone like me was able to attend Hogwarts, I would hope that Avanne would be able to get the same opportunity. But, I'm still worried- are you sure she will be safe?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm sure she will be," Dumbledore assured him.

"I can go?" Avanne asked, not believing it.

Her parents looked at each other, as though having a silent debate.

"Yes," her mum said, "I should think so."

"But, Avanne," her dad added, "Do try to stay out of trouble."

She turned her head away as a smile broke her face.

"Good, I will arrange it," Dumbledore said as he, too, smiled, "Now the only issue is the sorting."

"Private, can it be private?" she asked immediately.

"I'm sure I can arrange that, also," Dumbledore chuckled.

There was silence as several people started eating.

Mrs. Weasley kept glancing out to the hall, as though expecting someone.

"Something wrong, Molly?" Mr. Weasley asked his wife.

She gave a small sigh to herself, "It's just… Percy hasn't gotten back yet and- oh, you know he's never late."

Mr. Weasley consoled her, "He's probably just spending more time at work, you know how ambitious he is. Besides, he works closely with the minister and you never know _what _that man will do. No need to get worked up."

"I am _not _getting 'worked up,' Arthur!" but the concerned mother still took another wary glance at the doorway before bustling back to work. Her hands shook to the point where she almost dropped the dishes she was working with.

"Ron, Percy's one of your older brothers, right?" Avanne asked Ron several seats down.

Ron made a nearly inaudible "Uh-huh," through a mouthful of potatoes, some of which ended up being spit out by his attempt to talk.

"Unfortunately," either Fred or George muttered.

"_Ron!_" Hermione reprimanded, slight disgust on her face, "For Merlin's sake, don't talk with you mouth full!"

"What are you, my mother?" Ron shot back.

"_Ronald_," his mother warned.

"Sorry," he muttered immediately as he slouched back to his plate.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to eating her food in her neat way. Avanne snorted under her breath, and the brunette's head shot up, giving her a warning look. She just gave her a knowing smirk, then a cheeky smile before she resumed eating her stew.

The subtle creak of the door sounded through the room and steady footsteps became louder. Soon, in the doorway, was another redhead, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and looking particularly proud and pompous.

"Percy," Mrs. Weasley said, relieved as she went over to embrace her son.

"Hello, mother," Percy smiled, though he evaded his mother, ignoring her hurt frown.

"Well," Percy announced, strutting across the densely packed dining room, "I got a promotion," he puffed his chest out proudly.

"Really?"

"Yes," Percy smiled, "Junior Assistant to the Minister."

His mother gasped, "Oh, Percy."

There was a round of congratulations from the occupants of the room. But for some reason, Mr. Weasley didn't seem the least bit impressed. If anything, he seemed suspicious.

"Son," he told the proud redhead, "You're only a year out of Hogwarts."

"I know," Percy said, his smile faltering and slipping off his face slightly at his father's less-than-enthusiastic reaction, "Isn't that… aren't you… proud?"

"Who, exactly, gave you the job?" Mr. Weasley questioned.

"The Minister of Magic, himself," Percy announced, trying to regain his initial pride.

"Did you, perhaps, think that he may try to be spying on us- through you?" he asked.

"_What!_" Percy said, shocked and hurt.

"Not to mention the trouble you were just in-" Mr. Weasley was cut off.

"You think that the only reason the- the _Minister _gave me such an honor was because he wanted to spy on _you _through _me!"_ Percy shouted.

"Percy-" Mrs. Weasley went to her son.

This time, Percy made an obvious step away from them, "I HAD TO WORK HARD TO BE ABLE TO GET THE POSITION! AND YOU HAVEN'T BEEN MAKING IT MUCH EASIER FOR ME!"

Mr. Weasley stared at his son, "I don't understand," he said.

"_You _are the reason we all have to live in dirt! _You _are the reason that I've been practically shunned ever since day one!" Percy shouted at him, "_You- you _and," he stared at everyone in the room, "all of these _people here!_ _You _and you're stupid ideas! You're idiosyncrasies to the word of an attention-thirsty teenage boy and that crackpot old fool!" he pointed to Dumbledore accusingly.

Avanne suddenly became aware of the legendary wizard sitting next to her. He didn't so much as twitch. Mr. Weasley, on the other hand, flinched at all of the sentences like they were whips. Mrs. Weasley began to sob.

But at Percy's last sentence, most of the occupants in the room responded in some way. Some stomped out of the room, not wanting to be a part of the family argument. Some, like Ron and Hermione, jumped up at the insult of Harry and Dumbledore. Moody looked about ready to attack the young man. Others looked awkward, feeling that they really shouldn't be there, but not leaving. Mundungus, strangely, looked almost amused.

"_You're _stupid idiosyncrasies about _Muggles!" _Percy continued his attacks, "_YOU BLOODY THINK THAT VOLDEMORT'S BACK! OF ALL THE STUPID-"_

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Mr. Weasley shouted at Percy.

"YOU'RE AN IDIOT!" Percy yelled. His father was shocked into silence. Percy addressed the rest of the room, "YOU'RE ALL IDIOTS, to be following _him_!" he spat at Dumbledore. He turned back to his parents, "I KNOW WHERE MY LOYALTIES LIE- WITH THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC, NOT WITH ALL OF YOU FOOLISH TRAITORS!" he gave a hateful glanced at everyone, "I'm out of here," he stormed out.

"PERCY!" Mr. Weasley yelled, running after his son.

Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth with her hands, trying to bite back to her sobs, tears running down her face. Several people- including Avanne's mother- went over to comfort the crying mother.

The Weasley children were all either shocked (in Ron's case), angry (in the twin's case), or sad (in Ginny's case). Another one of Ron's older siblings, Bill, his fist tightly clenched, seethed.

The Weasley children, several other Order members, and Avanne went to the front hall to see what was going on.

Percy raced down the stairs, carrying what must have been a hastily packed bag. He flew to the front door, his hand grasped the silver handle tightly. Mr. Weasley grabbed his shoulder forcibly, preventing him from leaving.

"You would just walk out on this family?" he asked angrily.

"I'M NOT PART OF THIS FAMILY!" he yelled in his father's face.

"Percy, please," Dumbledore said, approaching the scene, "Don't do this to the people who love you."

Percy gave a murderous glare at Dumbledore. His eyes flew back to the handle and moved to open it.

"No, you don't, boy!" Moody shoved through the group, grabbed Percy by his collar and shouted, "Obliviate!" as he jabbed his wand toward the angry teenager.

Percy's eyes became unfocused and disoriented. Moody, still supporting the young man, swung the front door open and literally threw him out. He slammed the door shut.

Mrs. Black's screams rang out through the entire residence.

"Alastor!" Mrs. Weasley screamed over Mrs. Black's incessant screeching, "How dare you t-throw my s-son out!" tears streamed down her face.

"He's the one who was leaving!" Moody shouted also, "He'd been very clear on his decision!"

Mr. Weasley pinned Moody to the wall, "_What did you do? You put a memory charm on him!"_ he snarled, his eyes ablaze.

Moody pushed the red-haired man away from him, a growl appearing on his face, "I erased his memory regarding the order! The puppet would have gone blabbing off to Fudge!" he yelled in a scratchy voice, "We'd be lucky if he hasn't already!"

Mr. Weasley would've either yelled back, or taken his wand out and curse the man, but Mrs. Weasley stepped in.

"Stop it, you both, STOP IT!" she cried. She ran to the door and swung it open, "Perc-" she began, but the redheaded boy wasn't there.

Mrs. Weasley closed the door slowly and sank against the wall.

Bill shoved into the midst of people, "You just let him go?" he, too, shouted, "How do you expect to defeat You-Know-Who if you can't even keep this family together?" he stormed out of the room, heading upstairs.

Remus put a hand on his daughter's shoulder, "Go upstairs, I don't want you to see this."

"But-" she protested.

"Please, just go," her dad told her.

She yanked out of her dad's grasp, her temper flaring up just as everyone else's had, "Why shouldn't I be able to see what's going on?" she snapped.

Remus was surprised by her outburst, "I just don't want-"

"You never want me to do _anything! _You never _tell _me _anything!_ You just can't understand that I can think for _myself_!" she stormed out of the room, leaving her dad standing there, among the group of misery.

* * *

More family drama than I had planned, but that's how it goes *shrugs* And, about her outbursts, such is how it goes with teens, I guess *shrugs again*

By the way, I know that Percy had left a lot sooner in the book, but I thought that this would be able to tie in nicely. I like the way it turned out, for the most part.

Review, review.


	7. Chapter 7 Anger and Apologies

Disclaimer: Newsflash, nothing has changed. I have not spontaneously come to own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and, obviously, I am not J.K. Rowling.

I'm sorry for the long wait. I lost motivation for a while. But I kicked myself back into motion, so here it is. It was really hard to finish this chapter, for some reason.

* * *

"Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so you apologize for truth" -Benjamin Disraeli

"For every minute you are angry, you lose sixty seconds of happiness" -Author Unknown

* * *

Remus sat at the table, a paper on the table on front of him, his head resting in his hand. Persephone walked over carrying two cups of steaming tea. She put one of the cups in front of her husband and sat down in the chair.

"Hey, Honey, you okay?" she asked, concerned.

He didn't answer for a while, "Am I just a bad father?"

"No," she answered without hesitation, "Where would you get that idea?"

"She hasn't even talked to me for days," Remus sighed.

"She's just a bit upset, you know how she gets," Persephone consoled, "Besides, she and the others aren't allowed to go outside. They're _all_ on the edge and stir-crazy," she sipped her tea. There was silence for a moment, "Anyway, you're much better off than Arthur."

"How is he, anyway?"

She shrugged slightly, "No different- miserable."

Remus nodded and drank some of the tea.

She thought a while, "If it helps, I'll go talk to her later today."

"Yes, thank you," Remus murmured.

"Okay," Persephone whispered. She put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a tender kiss.

"This library is disgusting," Hermione stated for the fifth time.

"Yes, we know," Avanne fused, "_Thank you for the input, Hermione,_" she grabbed a doxy by the leg and sprayed it with killer viciously.

"What's got your hair in a bloody knot?" Ron snapped as he, too, exterminated another doxy.

Her anger and annoyance flared up. She scowled at Ron before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Is it a girl thing, or something?" Ron asked Hermione.

She rolled her eyes at him and turned away. Ron gave a frustrated sigh.

She stomped through the halls, fuming. She stopped dead in one of the hallways, and turned around. She kept going back-and-forth until she just stopped and scoffed, realizing she was lost, again. She became consciously aware of something clutched in her hand. She realized she was still carrying the doxy poison.

There was a sudden, loud crack behind her followed by two, loud, enthusiastic "HI!"s

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She wheeled around to confront the two offenders.

"_Why is it so difficult to take only a few minutes out of your lives to simply walk_?" she snapped.

"Precious minutes that we could use, Avanne," Fred said.

"Like, for perfecting our joke shop products," George continued.

Fred added, "We're still trying to figure most of the formulas, though."

"Especially this one that can change eye color and hair color," George finished, "Maybe you could help us out with it."

She resisted the urge to yell in their faces, as well, and stomp off. Instead she asked, "I don't know why you're asking me, I don't have any experience with pranks."

They both clapped her on the shoulder, "It's in your blood," they chimed with admiration.

She rolled her eyes and shook them off her shoulders. They still idolized the marauders, and it wasn't seldom that they would ask Sirius or her dad- whom she was still angry at- all about their days as master pranksters.

"Then why not just ask Sirius or my dad?"

"Because you can help us with this particular product," they said together.

"Why would-" she realized why, "Oh. Metamorphmagus, right."

"We would've asked Tonks-"

"-but you're less likely to tell Mum,"

She gave them a smug grin, "Yeah, _for now._ Pull any of your pranks on me, and I might just reconsider."

"Deal," they agreed simultaneously.

"So, what exactly do you need?" she asked tentatively.

"Well, since we're just starting to experiment with the formula, we're going to need a sample of you-" George began.

"-I doubt you want to give us your toenails-" Fred was interrupted.

"Okay, I get where your going," she held up her hand to silence them. She moved her hand to her head and plucked some of her purple hairs out.

"Thanks," they both grinned as they took the hairs.

"Once we've finalized the product-" Fred began.

"-you can get it for free!" George finished.

They grinned and disappeared with a pop.

She shook her head as a smile tugged on her lips for a moment. Count on the twins to lift you from a bad mood.

Avanne felt shame as she thought about how nasty she had been to anyone who had dared to cross her path. She resolved to go right back to Ron and Hermione and apologize (and put away the doxy poison). She began to walk but then stopped abruptly.

She fused, remembering that she was still hopelessly lost.

* * *

Draco slammed the door behind him.

"Daney!" he shouted.

A half a second later, there was a nervous crack from the other side of his room. The house-elf stood there, wringing his hands apprehensively, staying a good distance away from him.

Draco restrained himself from grabbing the elf by the neck, "Didn't I say, very specifically, that if they became suspicious, _you were to come to me immediately_?"

The little house-elf grabbed his own neck with his long, thin fingers, "I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry!" he cried as he fell onto the floor.

His anger dissolved as he watched the pitiful house-elf spluttering his feeble apologies on the floor, looking as though he was trying to choke himself.

Sighing, he knelt onto the floor, picked up the house-elf, and steadied him into a standing position, "Well?" he asked, "Why didn't you?"

Daney suppressed his sobbing as he answered in a shaky voice, "Mistress Narcissa told Daney he could not warn young master."

Draco tried to bite back his annoyance, "Why didn't you come to me anyway? You could have-"

"Young master would have been in trouble, sir. Greater trouble than otherwise, sir," Daney explained desperately, "Young master's father would have…"

Draco froze. He didn't hear what the house-elf said after that. Instead, the scene played out in his mind. His father had been home when his mother had become suspicious. Somehow, she must have kept it from his father when she demanded an explanation from Daney. And then she ordered the house-elf to not warn him, Draco. Daney, even though he knew what he, Draco, had told him, didn't come to him anyway.

What if he had? If Daney had come to him anyway, then obviously, he, Draco, would head straight back. He probably would have apparated home with the house-elf. But what if his father noticed? He, his father, would question the both of them. They would be forced to tell him, landing Draco into some seriously deep trouble.

Draco knew that the reprimand and punishment from his father would have been ten times worse than any punishment his mother would even consider giving. In an odd, twisted way, Daney may have saved him from a much worse potential string of events.

But he knew that there was a chance that it wouldn't have gone precisely that way. There was a chance he could've kept it from his father. Still, when it came to his father, Draco knew that he wouldn't have taken that chance.

"Daney," he told the still-blubbering house-elf, "You can go, now."

The little house-elf regained his composure.

"Wait," Draco said before Daney could leave. The house-elf looked up at him with fearful eyes, "Don't- don't punish yourself for this," he told him, "Understood?"

Daney gave a relieved sigh, and gave a grateful nod before disappearing.

Some little part of Draco had told him that it was his own fault for this mess- and Daney didn't deserve to be punished for his own mistake. But he rejected that reasoning.

Instead, he convinced himself that his father would notice if Daney stuck his hands in the oven, even though he well knew that he wouldn't.

Considering the alternative, he supposed he should have been grateful for how things had gone, though he wasn't. But he sure didn't feel sorry for himself, either.

* * *

She walked down the hall, making her way to the library that she knew the kids were de-contaminating. Since her had husband asked her, she was going to talk to Avanne about apologizing to her father. She admitted to being a little disappointed that she hadn't done it on her own, already.

She was surprised when she saw her purple-haired teenager sitting on the floor in one of the hallways, holding a can of what appeared to be poison.

"Hi, mum," she said, a relieved look crossing her face as she stood up.

Persephone eyed her daughter questioningly.

"I got lost," she explained, "I was trying to get to the library."

"That's funny, I was just going there to see you," Persephone commented.

"Oh," Avanne said slightly nervous, "Why?"

"Well," she treaded cautiously, "You've been kind of moody since- well, since the night Percy, erm, left."

Avanne suppressed a snort at the mention of the prat.

"And then," she continued, "you had your outburst at your father and- Avy, he's been having a hard time, lately. It would lift his spirits a bit if you just went to him and apologized-"

"_Me?_ He was the one who-"

Her mum abruptly gave her the infamous death stare. Upon noticing it, she abruptly shut herself up.

Persephone sighed, "Apologize to him," she told her.

"Fine. I'll say sorry when I next see him," she mumbled shoving her available hand into her pocket.

That was the best she was going to get, the mother figured.

"Still need to get to the library?" Persephone asked.

She nodded mutely.

Without a word in return, Persephone led her to the library, wondering if a map would do the girl some good.

Once they reached it, Avanne went inside, sparing just one glance at her mother and mumbling a thank you.

She saw Hermione and Ron- now with Ginny- busy spraying the last of the proxies. Upon seeing it was her, they turned their backs and ignored her.

She put the doxy poison on a shelf and took a deep breath. Might as well get some practice with it, she thought.

"Um, guys?" she called their attention.

Hesitantly, they ceased what they were doing to see what she wanted.

"Erm," she fumbled, feeling some much-needed humility, "Well, uh, I know I've been really, _really _nasty lately with you-"

"Hell, yeah," Ron commented openly.

Hermione stepped on his foot. Hard.

"Ow," he choked weakly, allowing Avanne to continue.

She decided not to attach some crummy excuse. That always ruined an apology.

"And, I'm really, _really _sorry," she said sincerely, "You're my friends and I was just a git."

"Don't think you're the only one that's angry," Ginny walked right up to Avanne, raising her voice, "You were using us as verbal punching bags! Don't you think that we would love to just shout at our friends when we're like this? But guess what? We don't!" she shouted.

Avanne, not quite expecting that reaction, stood, frozen and ashamed. It just plain confused her when Ginny suddenly broke into a smile and gave her a quick, friendly hug.

"Just kidding," she laughed, pulling away, "But that did feel good," she remarked to herself.

Understanding what was going on, Hermione, too, gave a smile and said, "You can make it up to us by helping with the doxies."

"But we're almost done with this room," Ron remarked, not understanding.

Hermione turned toward him abruptly and threatened to step on his foot again. He squeaked and took back his words. Hermione gave a satisfied smirk, and went back to the doxies.

"She is scary," Ron muttered, and also went back to work.

Avanne and Ginny watched in amusement, and wondered how long it would take them to realize that they liked each other.

"Fred and George told us that your mum told you to apologize to your dad," Ginny commented to Avanne, climbing into bed.

Avanne, who had already been settled in her own bed, occupying herself with a spider crawling across the wall, snapped back into focus at the statement, "How'd they find out?"

Ginny gave a shrug, "They're Fred and George- how do they find out anything?"

"Well?" Hermione inquired, tearing away from her book, "Did you apologize to him?"

"What _are_ you reading?" Avanne asked instead, wondering what book Hermione had been so consumed in since she'd first gotten there.

"Nothing, just a book," Hermione answered shiftily, "And you are ignoring the question."

"What I'd told my mum," Avanne explained, "Was that I'd apologize to him when I next saw him."

"Ah, so now you're just going to purposely hide from him as long as you can," Ginny realized.

"I wouldn't have put it like that," she paused, "But, yeah, that's pretty much what it is," she finally admitted.

"You know," Hermione said knowledgeably, "It would be a lot easier if you just went to him and apologized."

"You know, Hermione," Avanne imitated her, "It would be a lot easier on everyone if you just went to Ron and told him that you like him."

Hermione went completely red, "I do not-" she tried to protest but was interrupted by a tapping from the window

Visible through the clouded window was a snowy owl with a note clamped in its beak.

"Hedwig," Ginny said, getting up to open the window.

"Head-wig?" Avanne questioned.

"_Hedwig. _She's Harry's owl," she explained, opening the window.

The snowy owl immediately flew to the still-blushing Hermione. She took the letter and read it.

"Let me guess-" Ginny began.

"He's still asking for an explanation," Hermione sighed.

"Why not just explain it to him, then?" Avanne asked.

"Dumbledore told us very specifically not to," the brunette told her, grabbing some parchment and a quill pen, "It would be very bad if the letter got into someone else's hands and blew the Order's cover," she scribbled something onto the parchment and sent it off with Hedwig.

Avanne shrugged. It made sense on the surface, but she remembered how frustrated she had been. She nestled under the blankets and wondered how he was faring with it.

* * *

Finished the chapter. I don't know, it felt like a rushed job, even though it took me weeks. I had something specific in mind for this chapter, but after looking it up in the book, it wouldn't have followed with the timeline at all. Not to mention my use of logic crumbled right under my feet.

I just want to say sorry to everyone- my friends and family- that I've been absolutely horrid to. I've been treating you sort of as 'verbal punching bags,' and I'm really sorry.

I'm anticipating a tooth pull on about the 26th. I'm not even entirely sure why it's needed in my case (it's really not). Hopefully, I'll get in another chapter before then.

Happy summer everyone!


	8. Chapter 8 Forests and Feathers

Disclaimer: Let's keep it simple and quick, shall we? I don't own Harry Potter and this is for the entertainment of me and whoever is reading this. The end.

* * *

"In all of our minds, there is a chasm of raging chaos. We hide it with workings and obsessions, building up walls in our minds. Break down those walls, and you will see who you really are… and then you will go insane" -unknown

"Birds, they're balls of feathers that do nothing but fly and squawk and poop. But do you know what they are good for? Yeah… me neither" -anonymous

* * *

She was in what could be called Number 12 Grimmauld Place, but it was different. The walls were strewn with trees- or maybe the walls _were_ trees- the tops of which arched above her like a leafy ceiling. The drab, stone floor was replaced with damp, squishy forest floor. She reached the stairs, though it was stream, and skipped down the stepping stones.

She looked up, hoping to see the sky, but there was none- the trees were in the way.

"Of course," her thoughts projected, "I'm cooped up inside, how would I be able to see the sky?"

Hermione- her shirt with a blinking heart on it- snuck up behind Avanne.

"Come on, it's time to go to Hogwarts," Hermione said in a strange high-pitched voice.

"But I'm still in my pajamas," she protested.

"That's just your uniform, silly," said a red-haired boy that looked vaguely like Ron. He was wearing an identical 'uniform.'

She followed the two through the indoor forest. They reached a wide river.

"Hogwarts is across that river," said Ron, pointing, "We have to go across that bridge," he now pointed toward a wide plank laid out to cross the river.

They'd barely taken five steps on the plank when they heard a loud, "YOU'RE IT!" from behind them. Avanne looked behind her to see a young boy- the same one from that park- running towards the plank.

"Tag," he said to Avanne and pushed her into the river. She resurfaced quickly to glare at her childhood friend for that, but he was gone and the boy from the bus had taken his place.

"Wimp," he smirked at her and strutted across the plank.

She swam back to the shore and crossed the plank again.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were waiting for her.

"Is Hogwarts far from here?" Avanne asked, still seething about the river incident.

"Right over there."

They all pointed toward a large tree-house across a clearing. A sign hung above it saying "Hog-Warts."

"Nice," she commented sincerely as they walked toward it.

They all hoisted themselves onto a branch and climbed up to "Hogwarts."

"Wait, is that the only way?" she asked them.

"Come on," they said urgently.

"Okay," she said and began climbing. It was remarkably easy, even effortless.

But as she put her foot on one of the branches it gave a loud CRACK.

"Not again!" she said in frustration as she fell.

She expected to feel ground, but instead, something caught her. She saw the pale arms that had her.

She looked up at the blonde-haired teenager, who smiled momentarily before his face contorted in pain. He threw him away from her as he squirmed. She watched, stunned, as he morphed into a cloaked figure.

"Dementors?" she heard Hermione yell, apparently shocked. Though her voice was no longer oddly high-pitched, it sounded like she was hearing it from across some kind of barrier. The cloaked figure flew back toward her. She tried to scramble away, but the world was dissolving into black.

"That's what they said! Dementors attacked Harry in Little Whinging!"

She slowly realized that the black she saw was her eyelids. She felt herself curled up under blankets, but her pillow was mysteriously gone.

"Avanne, come on, get up!"

Oh no, she thought, there is no way it was morning already. She didn't move, pretending to still be asleep, hoping Hermione would give up and let her sleep.

"She should've woken up by now," Hermione said. She sounded panicky about something.

She then heard Ginny, "She probably _did_," she also sounded agitated, "But if not, hand me her pillow and I'll try."

"I don't-"

Avanne felt a pillow smack her in the face. So _that's _what happened to her pillow.

She grabbed the pillow and threw it down, "What the he-"

She stopped abruptly when she saw them. Both of them looked like they'd just jumped out of bed. They were still in pajamas and their hair was a mess. But they looked completely awake, and just as panicked and worried as they'd sounded.

"What happened?" she asked, starting to get worried herself.

"Harry, he was attacked by dementors," Hermione explained shakily.

"_Dementors_? I thought he lived in a _muggle _neighborhood."

"That's the problem!" Ginny exclaimed, "I wish they would let us know what was going on."

"Wait, when did this happen?"

"Just now, almost," Ginny answered, "I'd gone down to get a glass of water, but while I was down, an owl from Dad- he was working late- flew in and all hell broke loose. I barely managed to hear them say that dementors had attacked Harry before they called an emergency meeting. Mum went ballistic and told us all to stay put up here until this was over."

"I'm going to go see if Fred and George found out anyth-" Hermione was interrupted by the apparation of the two in the room.

Speak of the devil, she thought momentarily.

"New update," they reported in unison. Their faces were completely serious, "He apparently had to use a patronus charm-"

"-in front of a muggle."

"Oh, no."

George nodded, "They said the ministry is in the process of expelling him-"

"-but Dumbledore's trying to sort it all out," Fred added quickly.

"How did you find out?"

"Extendable Ears," they held them up and disapparated.

* * *

Not a week had passed since his little sneak-out, and life had already mellowed back into its dull self. Draco was sprawled out on a couch in the library. He had an open book on his lap, but he didn't read it. He found that he could only do so much reading before it ceased to be enjoyable.

His eyes wandered vaguely around the aged library. Several shelves were occupied by books concerning the dark arts, another by a record of family lines, and the rest were classics and general books.

He looked back to his _Quidditch Through the Ages*. _He thumbed through the pages absentmindedly. He stopped at an illustration of a Snidget, a fat bird that resembled a Snitch.

It was sort of amusing, he supposed, that seekers used to catch that little bird instead of the modern-day snitch, but the Snidgets probably ended up horribly mutilated more often than not. As the seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch Team, he was fairly sure he would rather catch a solid, non-living Snitch than a stout, little bird.

He shut the book. A small puff of dust flew out of it once he did, irritating his nose. He was really sick of the indoors.

He left the book on the couch as he stood up and left. Reading about Quidditch had reminded him of how much he needed to get some practice before term started. Gryffindor had won the last Quidditch cup, which had been during his third year. Draco knew that Graham Montague, the new captain, would do all that he could to win the cup back to Slytherin. So, he was fairly sure that he would hold team tryouts to make sure he had the best players (and since some players left Hogwarts after Draco's third and fourth year). If there was one thing he had observed from Montague, it was how ambitious he was when it came to Quidditch. If Draco wanted to stay on the team, he would have to do so on skill alone, without the means of bribery, as he did initially.

He knew he was considerably better than he had been during first year, and he knew he could easily fly circles around his Slytherin companions, but he didn't know if that would be enough.

He thought of an open field not far from the manor. He would practice there.

He grabbed his Nimbus 2001 and headed to the front door. He reached the entrance hall, and as he motioned to open the door, heard his father behind him.

"Might I ask where you are so eagerly headed?" he asked Draco.

He held up his broom, "I need to practice Quidditch if I want to stay on the team," he answered simply.

"And you cannot wait until the start of term?" Lucius asked, raising his eyebrow.

"With the O.W.L.s this year, I don't know how much time will be available before tryouts."

And he really wanted to get outside.

Without saying a word, Lucius walked away, probably to return to whatever he had been doing prior.

Draco, once he was out of earshot, gave a snort of derision. His father never even had any interest in Quidditch, he just wanted him to have positions of prominence and authority in school- to gain reputation early. Come to think of it, his father probably already convinced Snape to select him as prefect.

He stepped outside and immediately squinted his eyes against the bright sun. Coming out of a dark, cold environment and coming out into a warmer, brighter one was a bit of a shock.

Still not able to see properly, he went forward down the stone walkway. He suddenly tripped over something small and soft. As he collided with the ground, he heard a screech along with the clatter of his broom. Several white feathers were still floating along through the air.

He glared at the cause of his tripping. The said peacock was still skittering around, startled. It screeched angrily at him. He growled back.

His father owned and kept an abundance of those flashy birds in the yard of the manor. Peacocks of all things!

Moodily, he grabbed his Nimbus 2001 and continued down the path, peacocks scuttling around him. His scraped hands and wrists stung irritatingly.

He kicked another two of them out of the way and headed for the woods. The lighting became dimmer and dried, fallen leaves began crunching under his feet. He climbed onto a fallen log and walked along it, deep in thought.

CRUNCH CRUNCH

He froze, his heart skipped a beat. It sounded like footsteps crunching through the woods. They were swift, but steady, as though in a hurry. They definitely were not his own footsteps- he was standing quite still on a log.

The crunching eventually faded off behind him, heading toward his house. He regained his composure and kept walking, keeping quiet and staying cautious. Walking, he could have sworn he heard many more footsteps- all moving in the direction of his house.

He hopped over a slow creak. The lighting soon became bright again, so he knew he was coming close to the field.

"Malfoy!" greeted a familiar voice.

He looked toward the source.

"Hey, Zabini," he answered less enthusiastically.

Zabini broke into a smile, "Sour mood, I see. What happened?"

"An unfortunate run-in with my father's pet peacocks."

Zabini pulled a face. He hated birds of nearly every shape and size. Even owls.

"So," Zabini commented, putting that aside, "Come to practice Quidditch, did you?" he glanced pointedly at Draco's Nimbus 2001. He, himself, was carrying a Nimbus 1000.

Draco nodded, "And to get fresh air. You?"

"Hoping to make it on the team- you know, if Montague holds tryouts," he said proudly.

"You might get it" Draco commented. Zabini _was _a fairly good flyer, "What position are you trying out for?"

Zabini answered hesitantly, "Seeker."

Draco felt his eyes boggle. Out of all of the Slytherins, he was closest to Zabini- mainly because he was the least annoying. He was the closest thing he had to a best friend.

But seeker was _his_ position. _His position- _and Zabini was trying to get it!

Much to his confusion, Zabini burst out laughing, "That bewildered look on your face is priceless! You take me way too seriously, Malfoy!"

Draco relaxed. Zabini was a bit of a jokester. Not a terribly good one, though, and few Slytherins appreciated his sense of humor… and overall cheerfulness.

"I'm actually trying out for chaser," he explained, "But, if that doesn't work, _then _I'll tryout for seeker."

"Well, I hope you get chaser," he jeered, "Because you don't stand a chance a seeker."

"_Sure_, Mr. Bribery," Zabini jeered back.

There was silence.

"Anyway," Zabini broke it, "My mother is getting married. Again."

"_Again_?" Zabini's mother had been married many times, all to some very wealthy wizards. And then, maybe a few months later, they would mysteriously die.

"Yeah, he's a real jerk, this one," he scowled, "Can't take a joke to save his life."

"Oh, I bet not…"

* * *

The door shut behind Mrs. Weasely.

"I don't know whether to be relieved or upset," Ginny commented, stretched out across her bed.

"At least they didn't expel him," Hermione said with optimism, "And it's a trial. They can't find Harry guilty of anything, because he didn't do anything wrong."

"Hermione," Avanne said, going with being upset, herself, "If the world was logical like that, Harry wouldn't even be on trial. Instead, the ministry would be sending him an apology, because they were the ones in charge of the dementors."

"_Still,_" Hermione persisted, "It can only be fair."

"Fudge is stupid," Avanne argued, "He'll find a way to make it anything _but _fair."

Hermione realized this and became worried.

"Avanne, you're not making this any better," Ginny said, annoyed.

She opened her mouth to retort, but stopped at the sound of tapping. A familiar snowy owl tapped urgently on the window.

"It's Head-wig."

Rolling her eyes, Ginny stood up to let the owl in. She slid open the window and Hedwig flew straight to Hermione, her amber eyes flashing with intent.

Hermione unrolled the parchment, obviously from Harry and read it aloud:

_I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts-_

As she read the letter, a faint copper smell stung against Avanne's nose. She curled her nose at it.

_-I want to know what's going on-_

Trying to ignore the smell, she focused on the note, but noticed it had a small smear of red on it.

Eyebrows raised she looked to Hedwig. Only then did she notice that the owl's beak was covered in blood.

Maybe she had been hunting?

_-and when I'm going to get out of here._

The door swung open again. It was Ron, looking disheveled.

"Hey, watch out for-" he managed to say urgently before he was interrupted.

And then, chaos ensued.

Not moments after she had finished reading the note, Hedwig shot towards her and began pecking viciously at her fingers. Hermione gave a shout and tried to move away from the owl.

Ron lunged at the bird and, grabbing her, tried to restrain her from Hermione.

Hedwig flapped madly, struggling against her captor. Using her beak, she took a hard stab against Ron's already bleeding finger.

Reflexively, he released the owl, who, once again, went for Hermione. Ron staggered backwards and collided with Ginny. They both took a fall onto the ground.

Avanne tried to restrain Hedwig as Ron had. She struggled as the owl's wings slapped against her arms and shoulders. Feathers flew everywhere

"Sorry Gin," she heard Ron say as he helped his sister off of the floor.

One of Hedwig's wings suddenly slapped against Avanne's face. She opened her mouth, and ended up inhaling some of the feathers.

She staggered, choking on the feathers.

"Avy, watch out for the-" Hermione tried to warn.

Too late. Avanne ran into a lamp. It shattered on the ground.

On the ground, she released Hedwig, who weakly fluttered before flopping onto the ground. One of her wings was horribly mangled and bloody. She gave a small hoot, as though pleading for help.

Avanne had not landed onto the glass. She did get scraped- though not enough to break the skin. Her ankle ached and throbbed. She coughed out the troublesome feathers.

"Merlin, look at Hedwig!" Hermione gasped. She carefully picked up the injured owl.

Avanne pushed herself onto her feet, trying not to put weight onto her hurting ankle.

"I am so sorry," she apologized, feeling shame and embarrassment.

"Come on," Hermione said hastily, ignoring Avanne. She rushed out of the room, the group followed her.

They walked briskly to the dining room, where they hoped an adult was there and could help. Avanne had trouble keeping up with the group, walking in a weird limp.

"Mum!" Ginny shouted as they approached the dining room, "Mum!"

"What, Ginny, wh-" Mrs. Weasley gasped, "What on Earth happened?"

The dining room was filled with the remains of the hastily gathered meeting, they watched the scene before them.

The teens glanced at Avanne, who dropped her head and made her face extra pale to hide her flush.

"She ran into a lamp," Ginny said. It wasn't a lie, but she knew her mother- and everyone else- would assume that 'she' was Hedwig.

Avanne looked at Ginny, trying to make her face say 'thank you.' Ginny nodded.

"Arthur," Mrs. Weasley called, "Take care of Hedwig, I need to go get a potion for Ron and Hermione."

"Yes, dear," Mr. Weasley murmured, taking the owl.

"You, too?" said Sirius, walking into the room, "I just felt the wrath of that bird a few minutes ago," he held up his scarred hand, "It wouldn't stop until I finished a letter to Harry."

"You don't think he had her do that, do you?" Ginny asked.

"Probably," Sirius said simply. Those in the room starting discussing something amongst themselves. He addressed Mrs. Weasley, "Molly, there's probably some potion for them in the bathroom cabinet.

She bustled out to retrieve it.

"I'll just go," Avanne mumbled, limping off.

"Avanne," she heard her dad say.

She felt her insides twist with dread. She glanced at her mum, who looked at her knowingly. She turned to her dad, "Yes?"

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine," she answered adding fake enthusiasm. Too much fake enthusiasm.

He eyed her, "Then, why are you limping?"

"I tripped. My ankle's probably just twisted."

"Well, let me know if it doesn't get better," he walked back to his seat.

She took a deep breath, "Hey, dad?"

He looked back to her, "Hmm?"

"Um…" she tried to figure out how to say it, "About my outburst… some days ago," she dropped her eyes to the floor, "I was… I'm sorry."

The shadow of a smile crept onto his face, "It's alright."

She smiled slightly, "Great. I'm going to go back to bed."

"Not so fast," Ginny said, walking over to Avanne, "I'm going there, too, and you'd get lost without someone."

"Probably," Avanne agreed and hopped away, following Ginny.

* * *

I'm really, really sorry for the lack of update for the past month(s).

You should know, I'm going to be editing a few chapters slightly (specifically 2, 4, and 7- maybe others). The changes probably won't be too dramatic that you'd have to read. It's mostly going to be fixing mistakes, rewriting a paragraph or two, and changing a few select details. I'll have it up by September 12, 2010 (because I need a deadline). Watch for that.

I must say, it was much more fun to write about Draco than it was Avanne.

Let me know what you thought. For those who were possibly confused, the very first part was a dream.

Oh, IMPORTANT. Thinking about it, I realize that I really don't need to have Avanne as a metamorphmagus. I don't want people, when they start to read, to stop reading because they automatically find her to be a Mary-Sue because she is one. I'm still fairly early in the writing, so it's still possible for me to go back and rewrite this without her as one. PLEASE let me know if you think I should keep her as is, or rewrite her so she's not a metamorphmagus. I might put up a poll, so please check my profile for that. Thanks.


End file.
